The Unknown Known
by MystryGAB
Summary: This One-Shot takes place during the S6 episode Known Unknowns. It replaces the idea of Lucas and changes things up quite a bit.


_This takes place during the S6 episode Known Unknowns. It replaces the concept of Lucas, who really wasn't a concept at all. The sections in bold italics are lines from the actual episode. _

_This is an old Fic brought out of darkness and cobwebs. It's angst, love and Huddy, of course._

_I hope you enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I am not associated with the man who brought eyeliner guy into a beautiful love story._

**The Unknown Known**

_**Cuddy: Oh, I thought you were room service. Something going on with your patient?**_

**_House: It's quiet in there. Is Rachel asleep? I thought maybe, you could use a babysitter._**

**_Cuddy: Actually, I've got her in day care downstairs._**

**_House: Oh. Great. Maybe later._**

House heard the sound of a child giggling before he'd even started to turn away. He stared at Cuddy, waiting for an explanation, or at least a clue as to why she would lie about Rachel being in daycare. But Cuddy just looked down, avoiding his eyes and awkwardly adjusting the hem of her shirt. He didn't say a word.

"I don't want you to watch her," she finally mumbled. He noticed she took a deep breath before standing up straight to look him in the eye. "I don't want you here."

It was a sucker punch. House forced himself not to react.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she quickly added.

She was almost forcing herself to look at him. She was nervous and agitated, and he frowned at her. This wasn't Cuddy at all. Not the Cuddy he knew…and loved.

"You're protecting me in my fragile state? You think I'm an unhinged Looney about to go off the rails if you reject me?" He was being sarcastic, but there was an angry bite to his voice that certainly reflected his pain.

"I just don't want to be a part of it."

"And by 'it', you mean me."

"I really don't think we should talk about it," she said, clearly exasperated.

"Months of therapy – and years of 'We need to talk' – only to be told not to talk about it," House bit back at her. "This healthy approach is really working for me! So glad I did it."

House turned to leave, disgusted with the entire situation. He'd put himself out there on the dance floor last night by telling her he'd wanted to call her after they'd hooked up, but being expelled from school threw a wrench in his plans. He was admitting to her he'd always been attracted to her, always wanted to see if they had a chance. He was baring himself to her; opening up to her about something so personal and so fundamental in their relationship it should have been staggering. Wilson had even wondered if she was surprised and didn't know how to react, or if she just wasn't ready to hear it. Maybe he had a point. But how could she not be ready? After all they'd been through, weren't they well past being awkward with truth?

"House," Cuddy called to him. He wanted to ignore her. He wanted to deflect and attack. But instead he turned back to face her. More than anything else, he wanted to be close to her. He wanted it to be comfortable with them again.

Her frown was concerned, her eyes were wary. Even worse, she was biting her lip with guilt and pity. Could it get any worse?

"Forget about it, Cuddy," he said. "I get it."

"No," she said. "I don't think you do."

"I don't want your pity," he bit out. "I'd rather have your anger. Fire me again. Call me an ass. Tell me you never want to see me again. But do not patronize me."

Her head jerked back as if she'd been slapped.

Cuddy grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, closing the door behind her.

"You think I pity you?" Her voice was strong, and her eyes were blazing with a fire he hadn't seen since he'd returned from Mayfield.

"I hallucinated a night with you and yelled it from a balcony," he reminded her, admitting yet again to his crimes. "I had a mental break and spent the last few months in an institution. I'm pretty sure you're not only going all white-coat on me, you're considering an exorcist!"

She was taken aback by his response. She shouldn't be. House was an expert at avoidance, games and manipulation, but he had always been remarkably passionate about embracing truth, regardless of how embarrassing or painful, even if it was about him. It often took time and circumstance to get him to look at himself with the deliberating clarity that was so much a part of his gift, but once he did, he was brave and unrelenting in owning up to that truth.

"I don't think you're crazy."

Her voice was as steady as her gaze. She wasn't lying.

"Or possessed," she added.

"Then what's going on," he pushed her. "I get that you've been walking on eggshells since I got back. I understand that. Hell, I even appreciate it. I didn't know what I'd be facing when I got back to the hospital, or if I'd be able to handle it." His voice softened, and there was a tenderness that came into his eyes that she'd seen a few times recently, but was so unlike the House she'd known for so many years. It scared her.

"You've been great, Cuddy. A better boss than I could ever expect," he continued. "And a better friend than I deserve."

Cuddy abruptly turned away from him. "I need to put Rachel down for her nap."

House watched her walk away with the little girl in her arms. She was running again. He couldn't figure out why. Wilson had said she didn't see him as reliable; he had to take steps to prove her wrong. House knew he had a lot of work to do to change her opinion of him, but he couldn't figure out how to do that if she kept pushing him away. She'd been supportive when he returned to work, patient in fact. He knew she'd seen his behavior as erratic, but she'd given him space and defended him on the sidelines, never wavering in her belief in him as a doctor. And yet, he couldn't help but feel the force field around her, preventing him from getting too close. With every step he made toward her, it was fortified. Every word, every gesture that even alluded to their past or suggested intimacy seemed to strengthen that wall between them.

It felt hopeless. He wanted it to be easy like it had been with Lydia. She'd just accepted him, enjoyed him. She saw his faults, but seemed to place more weight and importance on his strengths. She told him when his actions were reckless and dangerous, but appreciated that his motives were noble and good. Cuddy had done that at one time. She'd call him on his carelessness, berate him for his inconsiderate behavior and ill-advised decisions, and then defend him to anyone who even hinted at an insult because she saw into his heart. She had been his personal boundary-keeper and warrior for years. Until he'd crudely disparaged her importance and her feelings when he'd grabbed her breast. Then he'd tormented her for pursuing her dream of being a mother. He'd taunted her when she'd struggled to bond with Rachel, and made her life hell for choosing her child over him. Of course he'd been doing it under some warped sense of helping her find the strength and purpose of her own way through his machinations, but looking back he could see that she was feeling battered during her weakest moments. Instead of being her friend in the battle, he'd been another opponent.

He'd wanted to change, to remove the pain so he'd be a better man for her. Then he'd mocked her for trying to help him with his pain relief efforts and for supporting him. He'd been shutting her out every step of the way. He didn't even tell her about his hallucinations: the very hallucinations that would finally put her job, her character and even her dignity on the line. He'd been slowly decimating her trust, removing all traces of belief and hope for their future. It was no wonder she was running.

"She fell right to sleep," Cuddy said as closed the door behind her. "It must be the mountain air. She usually fights me."

House watched her. She was fidgeting again, picking at her fingernails, moving her hands from her pockets to her waist, playing with her hair.

"You're so uncomfortable with me," House whispered.

Cuddy looked up at him, her eyes sad and cautious. He'd said that to her a few days ago, just before he'd told her she made him feel funny. How many years had she dreamed of that kind of proclamation from him? Yet now it just scared her.

"What do you want from me, House?"

Her voice was soft. He could even say it was tender, but that wall of defense was closing in around her.

"Nothing," he answered softly, not wanting to pressure her, to push her away. "Everything," he suddenly corrected himself, not wanting to back down or pretend anymore.

He was messing it up. He needed to stop playing games and stop dancing around the issues. He needed to deal with her honestly, with the truth that was needed and deserved. "I want you to be comfortable with me again," he said.

She looked out the window. "I am comfortable with you," she said, without emotion he noted.

"Yet you can barely stand to look at me," he gently argued.

Cuddy boldly faced him and he caught a glimpse of the fire he'd begun to think was extinguished. "Okay, I'm looking at you," she said. "Feel better?"

"This isn't about me feeling better."

"Then what's it about, House?" She angrily asked. "What the hell is it about?"

House forced himself not to flinch.

"You manipulate your way into this conference, playing your usual games, and showing your typical contempt for all structure and discipline. You make a mockery of our past together, declaring some romantic intent after twenty years of bullshit. You barge in here pretending to play a generous hero when you're obviously out for your own agenda," she was almost yelling now. "So you tell me House! What the hell is it about if it's not about you?"

Cuddy's heart was racing and her blood pressure rising. She wanted to scream, or cry. She wanted to run, to get away from this conversation, from the sudden vulnerability that lighted those incredibly blue eyes. She wanted to hide, to pretend she wasn't scared or hurt, or feeling this incredible pull to protect the lost boy that seemed to be reflected in his expression and stance.

"Us."

That word, his hushed voice, his broken spirit almost did her in. Almost.

"There is no 'us'," she said, placing more emphasis on the declaration than she felt. "There never has been."

She watched the agitation wash over him, followed by panic. He stepped forward, grabbing her by the arms in a firm grip.

"That's not true," he said, and shook her. "That's not true."

She could feel his desperate need tangling with her frantic fear.

"Let go of me," she bit out.

"You can't give up on us," he said. "You can't give up on me." He was firm, yet almost pleading. It was the combination of strength and defeat that gripped her heart.

She pushed his arms away and jerked away from him. "There's no 'us', House!" She repeated, her eyes wild, her body trembling with emotion. "It was an hallucination. It wasn't real."

"It was real," he insisted. "Not the night together, but the feelings! The feelings were real."

"Stop it!" She demanded. "Just stop it!"

"I know I messed up!" He pushed forward. "And you don't have any reason to give me another chance, but don't pretend there's nothing between us. Don't pretend you don't feel anything."

Cuddy slapped him across the cheek.

He didn't know who was more stunned.

House stared at her shell-shocked. Cuddy began to cry.

"You put me through hell," she said as the tears flowed down her cheeks. "You made a fool of me every chance you got. You undermined my position, you mocked my abilities, you threw my feelings in my face and objectified me as if I was nothing more than one of your hookers!"

She was almost sobbing now, her sentences broken as she gasped for breath. "You never even told me you were hallucinating! You didn't tell me you needed help! You never let me in," she spoke with so much vehemence he winced at her words. "But you had no problem at all telling the whole hospital we'd had sex! You had no problem destroying the credibility I worked hard to get! You had no problem at all hurting me!"

House grabbed her by the arms again, pulling her to him.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled, and tried to pull away. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and tight. "You don't have the right to touch me!" She continued to fight.

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't know what else to say. It didn't help. It didn't change anything. But it had to be said. She needed to hear it, and he needed to say it before they could move on.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He didn't want to move on. He wanted her. He wanted to forget the past and love her like she should have been loved all along.

"Please don't touch me," she cried.

House kissed her, with a fierce passion that contained all of the emotions he didn't understand and couldn't express in words.

Cuddy felt her legs give out beneath her.

House couldn't hold her up. He was trembling. It took everything he had to hold it together himself. So he held her tight and sank to the floor with her.

"I'm sorry, Cuddy," he said it again, pressing his lips along her cheek and on her head as she sobbed into his chest.

She was consumed by her emotions, unable to focus on his words, unable to focus on him.

"It was my fault," she cried. "You broke down right in front me." Cuddy was holding on to him now, gripping his shirt, then his arms, almost crawling into him. "You thought I was there helping you, but it was my fault you were there in the first place."

"It's wasn't your fault, Cuddy," he said.

"I let them cut the muscle," she argued. "I'm the reason you're in pain. I'm the reason you're a drug addict."

"You're the reason I got clean," he replied.

Cuddy shook her head violently, almost burrowing into him. "I should have seen you needed help," she said. "I should have been there. I should have known."

"How could you have known?" He argued. "Stop being so damn narcissistic."

He didn't know if he'd said the right or wrong thing, but she suddenly stilled. "You saved my life when you took that middle ground," he said in earnest. "But you're not my hero. You're not supposed to save me."

She was controlling her breathing. He could tell she was making a concerted effort to calm down, so he knew she was listening to him. He ran one hand down her back as the other held her against him. "And believe me, with a body like yours, you are no angel."

Cuddy looked up at him then. Her eyes were red, her make-up smudged with tears. He felt his chest tighten with an intense need to comfort and protect her.

"You really think this is the best time to hit on me?" She said, dryly.

"Any time is a good time," he said, but quickly added. "But no time is the right time."

She stared at him for a heartbeat before she lightly chuckled. "You are such an ass," she said, and bent her leg over his, nestling her knee between his legs as she curled into him.

"You dealt me a knockout blow, and you're calling me an ass?"

"The truth hurts," she teased.

He placed a kiss into her hair, and whispered: "Sometimes it does."

Cuddy looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No," he stopped her. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I let you down."

"I let you down," he corrected. "I let myself down."

It was the most profoundly 'real' moment they'd shared since they'd made love all those years ago. There was no deflection or pretense; they weren't hiding behind masks and bravado. They weren't running.

House rolled over to face her fully, his legs further entwining with hers and his hand resting on her hip.

"I screwed up," he told her. His eyes searched hers, becoming glassy and full at the fear he saw reflected at him. "I don't know how to fix it."

Cuddy reached up and ran her fingers along his jaw. She watched his lips as her fingers rang along their edges, then followed their path as they moved over his brow and back down to his jaw. "You scare me," she said.

He swallowed hard. "Because of my sexual magnetism?" He was hoping to bring some levity to a conversation that seemed to be ripping his gut.

Her breath was a laugh. At least he thought it was.

"I don't want to be the reason you break."

"You're not," he insisted. "You weren't."

"I can't go through this again, House," she said with a sadness that gutted him. "It doesn't matter that I…" she stopped abruptly and shook her head. "It doesn't matter how much I…" she stopped again.

House tightened his hold on her. _Please don't leave me. Please don't push me away._ He felt desperate, but his expression was still, fixed.

"I have to do what's right for Rachel," she said.

He didn't move as their eyes held. This was it. She loved him. He knew that. He knew it even if she'd never said it. But it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough. How could he argue with something that was right? Hadn't he spent a lifetime trying to overcome the pain of a parent who just didn't cut it? How could he ever blame her for protecting her child when all he'd ever wanted was for his mom to protect him?

House knew his eyes were too full to hold the tears for much longer. He had to leave. He had to do the right thing. For once, he had to do what was right for her, regardless of what it did to him.

With only a nod of his head in response, he fumbled to unravel himself from her embrace and pull himself up.

Cuddy watched him grab his cane and walk away, and she suddenly felt empty and bereft.

"House," she called out to him.

He turned to look at her. "You're still my friend," she said. "You'll always be my friend."

His eyes closed and his lip twitched. When he opened his eyes again, she gasped at the raw pain that he couldn't hide.

"That will never enough," he said.

When the door closed behind him, Cuddy broke down and cried. She cried for the time they'd wasted, the years they'd lost. She cried for his pain and her loss, for his misery and her future. She cried because doing the right thing was the worst thing she could ever do.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

Cuddy sat in the back of the auditorium in stunned silence. She'd slipped into the crowded room and had hid in the crowd when she realized House was speaking and not Wilson.

At first she'd been angry, furious that House was playing another one of his games by impersonating a Dr. Perlmutter. Then he'd started reading the speech, painting a very true picture of the challenges facing an oncologist dealing with a patient's dignity. She knew right away he was reading Wilson's speech, a speech that could effectively destroy his reputation if not his career.

House had fumbled a bit when Wilson had come through the doors, but then he'd spoken from his heart. He'd told Wilson - in a way that only House could pull off - that he was a good doctor, and good man, and that'd he'd done the right thing. He'd told Wilson he was a good friend. And in this act of impersonation and deceit, House had been a friend to Wilson.

After the crowd dispersed, Cuddy slipped through the side doors to find the two men who meant the most to her in this world.

"_**That was my paper. You don't ask what I want, you ignore my wishes, you drug me."**_

She could hear Wilson's voice.

"_**I'm waiting for you to name something new to our relationship. You've got no good reason to be angry."**_

She shook her head at his response. House was so frustratingly logical.

"_**Oh, really? I should be thanking you?"**_

"_**If this was about getting the story out there, then yeah. Of course, if this is actually about something else... Maybe you feeling impotent because patients keep dying and you think you need to make some grand, stupid gesture – You need to be a hero – Well, then, yeah, sorry. I did screw it up."**_

"_**You stepped over the line. This was not your decision."  
**_  
Oh! Wilson, she thought. He just did an amazing thing for you. Can't you see that?

"_**My God, there are 10,000 oncologists in this country. Every one of them loses patients. But only you would feel guilty enough..."**_

House stopped talking suddenly, and Cuddy frowned. Peeking around the corner she saw the look on House's face as he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He'd just had an epiphany; he had solved his case.

"_**Of course! We can't even argue on my schedule," **__Wilson said._

Cuddy slipped up behind him and took his hand. Wilson turned quickly, shocked and a little nervous. She smiled sympathetically at him and pulled him behind her as they walked toward the dock at the lake. They needed to talk.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

House had seen them talking on the dock. When he'd gotten off the phone with Cameron, he'd turned to see Wilson gone. He was frustrated. He didn't want to upset Wilson or make him mad. Wilson was his best friend, his only friend. He'd been there for him every step of the way since he'd gotten out of Mayfield, and even before. He was one screwed up oncologist, but there was no one he counted on more…except for Cuddy. But he'd ruined that. He'd broken that into so many pieces all that was left was heartache and pity.

Wilson wasn't in their room, or in the bar. He'd checked out all of the lecture halls, and had come back out to the deck in hopes that he'd find his friend had returned to talk to him. That's when he saw them.

Cuddy was gesturing with her hands as she talked to him. Wilson was very still as he listened intently. What was this about? Was she telling Wilson about their talk? Was she asking for advice? Surely she wouldn't…

She knows, he thought. The realization was as clear as one of his patient epiphanies.

"Crap!" He said aloud, and headed toward the lake.

By the time he reached the docks, he was ready to defend Wilson with a number of arguments and suggestions. There was no way Wilson would lose his job, or his reputation.

House came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the lake when he saw Cuddy hug Wilson. It was a friendly embrace, but there was something about the way his friend was holding her that let him know Wilson was crying. If not crying, then close to it.

Wilson cared about his patients. He cared about people. He was one of the good guys. Cuddy knew that; she knew Wilson. Knowing what he'd done placed her in a very difficult position. Ethically, she should report him and have him face the consequences of his actions. Her position as Dean of Medicine demanded she address the issue. Her role as a friend demanded she be there for him. More importantly, the person of Lisa Cuddy, the woman he loved right now more than he'd dreamed possible to love anyone, would demand that she protect a man who'd done what was morally right even if it broke every rule she'd promised to follow. She would work her magic and protect Wilson, not just because he was her friend, but because there was a place for sorting through the grey areas even in her black and white world view. House found himself smiling. She had a way of making things right. She did it for him; she'd do it for Wilson.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

"_**When you do what I did, it's not enough to tell yourself you did nothing wrong. You need to hear it from someone else, if not God or society, a friend. Otherwise you go crazy. What you said to me up there... Thank you. You're a good friend."**_

Cuddy came up behind them before House could respond.

"Hi," she said.

House turned to find her looking at him.

"Hi," he responded.

"I'm going to go pack," Wilson said. "It won't take long since I have no pants. Maybe I'll grab some grape soda. I doubt it will be drugged this time."

Cuddy laughed. Wilson leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, "I'll pick up Rachel. Take all the time you need."

She smiled as she watched him leave.

"Thank you," House said to her.

"I should be thanking you," she corrected him. "You did a really good thing, House. You risked a lot for him."

He shrugged. "I've got nothing to lose."

And he didn't. He didn't have his medical license back yet. Half the time he didn't know if he had his mind back completely. He didn't have his reputation for brilliance at this point, and he certainly didn't have any pride left.

"I love you."

House jerked at her words, turning to face her with a stunned look on his face.

She shrugged. "I shouldn't," she said. "But I can't seem to stop myself."

"You'll get over it," he said. He wasn't sure what to say. Nothing had changed. He wasn't good for Rachel; therefore he wasn't good for her.

Cuddy smiled. "You're not that easy to get over."

"I can lie down," he offered, and waggled his brows. "It'll make it easy for you to climb on board."

She grabbed his jacket by the lapel and pulled him to her. Now this was unexpected. "You want to kiss me, House?"

His eyes closed at the memory of those words. A hallucination that both broke him and gave him life.

"I always want to kiss you," he whispered.

"Look at me," Cuddy said.

He opened his eyes to gaze at her.

"This is real," she said.

"I don't need rescuing. I'm vicodin-free."

"I'm not here to save you."

_Why are you here?_ House searched her face for an answer. She said she loved him, but that's didn't change anything. It was good to hear, but it made as much difference as 'I'm sorry' in the big picture. She may love him, but she couldn't be with him.

"You're wrong," she said. He frowned. "But then so was I."

House quickly shook his head as if trying to make sense of it all.

"You drank the soda, right?"

Cuddy kissed him. It wasn't a tentative, gentle kiss like the one in the hallucination. It was firm, and exploring. She played with his tongue, licking and tasting, playing with him as she pulled back slightly only to devour him again. This was a kiss full of passion and promise, and House took her by the waist and pulled her into him.

With a quick, but awkward move, he turned her and pressed her back against the wood rail with his body. His tongue was vying for position in her mouth and she could feel the heat from his body as he pushed into her. Cuddy groaned at the feel of his growing erection.

The sound seemed to awaken him from a passionate haze because he pulled away slightly to look at her.

His neck was flushed and his eyes glazed. His lips were swollen and Cuddy couldn't take her eyes off them. She could only think of the places she'd like to feel those lips, where she'd like to have this tongue.

"This isn't a good idea," he said. The rasp in his voice turned her on even more.

"No, it's a GREAT idea," she teased.

Cuddy slid her hands slowly down the seam of his shirt, slowing circling each button along the path.

"You risk everything for the people you love," she said. "You're reckless. You do insane things. You're rude and have no bedside manner. And your need to be right will get you into trouble every time."

She slipped her hand beneath his belt and grasped the buckle. "But you don't hide from the truth. You face it head on and deal with it. You're brave, and honorable, and as much as I try to hide it and deny it, you're a romantic."

Cuddy pulled at the belt and pressed into him. "I want you," she said with a sultry smile. "Want to stay another night?" She bit on her lower lip. "With me?"

House almost groaned. "A night won't be enough."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she grinned, placing a kiss on his chin.

If she wasn't going to play fair, neither would he.

House cupped her rear and lifted her fully against him so she could feel the full impact of what she was doing to him. "I want a relationship with you," he said. He kissed her hard on the mouth with passion and possession before pulling away, leaving her wanting.

"The only thing I will be more obsessed with than making this work is giving you a better orgasm every...single...time."

Cuddy almost fainted. That was surely the most erotic thing she'd ever heard.

"Less talk, more action," she said.

Who knew a cripple could move so fast?


End file.
